Give Up
by indigo-chica
Summary: He is her enemy, classmate, fellow detention goer and … she’s not exactly sure what else. She is his everything. And this is their story.
1. Chapter One

**Summary: **It's when you least expect it that a lifeline is thrown to you. Which is why, if he's not careful, Tristan DuGrey is liable to screw up his last chance to really get to know Rory Gilmore.****

**Story: **Give Up

**Prologue: **_You have nothing over me_

No matter how many times people tell you to keep trying, there are times when you should just give up. This was one of them. This was because Rory Gilmore was never going to get the upper hand against Tristan DuGrey in this argument. Especially considering that he was in his territory.

He frowned, his beautiful tanned skin forming lines on his forehead. He leaned against her locker door, ignoring the curious stares from various passer-by's. "How can you listen to that crap, Mary?"

Rory was in the process of returning her Advanced Biology books to their place in the locker, and taking out her Calculus ones when she heard the annoying voice of someone who was too cocky for their boots. She wrinkled her nose as if she smelt something nasty, and cocked her head to the side to face Tristan, simultaneously taking off the earphones, making them dangle around her neck like a discarded piece of clothing. She should have known that he was right behind her, because the hairs in the back of her neck had risen uncannily.

"This is not crap. PJ Harvey is one of the best artistes on record." She paused. "By the way, it's Rory, not Mary. I would have thought that it would be drummed into your obviously thick skull by now."

Tristan smiled. "Yeah… but what's the fun in calling you by your real name, when I can give you my own personal nickname for you. And back to the PJ Harvey thing, I prefer things that do not brainwash you into the whole burning-the-bra feminist. That would be a disappointment to all the females in this world."

"Go to hell."

Tristan laughed. "I'm sure I'll get there someday. Meanwhile, I have girls to do and expensive wines to taste."

Rory grimaced in his particular choice of distasteful words. "Why can't you go bother someone else?"  

"Because you're the only one here who turns me on."

"Are you sure? Because I thought the only ones that do that are the ones who wear skirts ending halfway up their asses, and a top that plunge down to their waists, exposing anything that could be exposed in the first place."

Tristan smirked in response. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous."

"What makes you think that I'd be jealous of a regular hooker?"

"The way you act. We all know that beneath that demure façade is a tiger just waiting to get out." He grinned, his teeth sparkling white, reminding her of a predator. And she was his prey. He bent down really close, whispering out the next words. "And personally, I can't wait." His breath tickled her ear, making her forget for one second that she was in the middle of a crowded hallway in the middle of a school day. She felt seduced… and she did not like that feeling one bit.

"Can't you think of anything else but sex for one second?" she bit out, her tone of voice vicious and meant to hurt because in that particular timeframe, she really meant it. 

And Tristan knew that she meant it. So he retaliated with an equally biting and cruel command. "How can I when you're always around, leading me on?"

He seethed inside when she didn't say anything. "You whore," he whispered, the words brushing over Rory and setting her on fire like nothing had before. Their last few minutes of talk had changed from banter to maliciousness. Rory couldn't take the verbal abuse anymore. She was already on the bursting point, and that last comment sparked off something in her she hadn't known she had. 

So she swore. "FUCK OFF, TRISTAN!"     

Unfortunately, that was the wrong time and the wrong place to let go of her first angry strings of blasphemies. Standing right behind her was Headmaster Charleston. And he looked pretty angry too.

He glowered at Rory and Tristan both, and gestured them to follow him. Rory groaned in response and knocked her head against the closed door of her locker. She wished someone could just kill her and get it over with. 

There was an almost comical silence as Rory and Tristan followed in the dreaded wake of Headmaster Charleston. The hushed silence of their fellow classmates made the situation even worse than it would have been if that moment had been private. Rory bemoaned her luck, wishing that she had never met Tristan in the first place. 

Headmaster Charleston led them into his own private office, and sat down on his specially made classic leather chair. He stared at the both of them whilst they stood nervously near the office door. Actually, Rory wasn't sure if Tristan was nervous, but she sure had enough butterflies in her stomach for the both of them. Finally, Headmaster Charleston motioned for them to sit in the two chairs in front of his rather large, extremely tidy desk. 

His moustache twitched minimally as he observed the nervous twitches of Rory Gilmore, and wondered if it was the first time that she got into trouble with someone of higher authority. He was pretty sure it was, and since that was the case he intended this incidence to be one that wasn't quite so easily forgotten. 

"Blasphemies of any sort are not allowed in Chilton Prep, Ms. Gilmore. This is because this institution doesn't support that sort of behaviour. This institution is a symbol for excellent grades and …"

Tristan had zoned out on the first line of Headmaster Charleston's extensive speech on what makes Chilton Prep the hangout of geeks and rich asses alike. He found the situation ridiculously funny, but felt really bad that he had dragged Rory into the situation. She was going to hate him even more than she had before, which was never his intention. He just wanted to know that he could get to her, and make sure that she noticed him. Now, she was noticing him even more than he wanted her to (if that was even possible). She was giving him glares every few seconds, and if looks could kill… he's be incinerated in a few milliseconds flat. 

Finally, Headmaster Charleston came to the end of his long and boring sermon. **"…And I sentence the both of you to a month's worth of detention."**

As soon as those words were uttered, pandemonium broke out in the rather roomy office of Headmaster Charleston. 

"But I didn't do anything!" said Tristan. 

Headmaster Charleston smiled, the white of his teeth gleaming like a predator that had caught its bait. "I'm sure you played a very large role in this fiasco, Mr. DuGrey."

Tristan frowned. All he could think about was 'What were his parents going to say?'

Rory's eyes widened, and before you can say "BOO", they filled up with reluctant tears that were threatening to spill at any second. And because Headmaster Charleston was feeling rather merciful at that particular moment, he dismissed the two of them. 

"You may go now," he said, watching Rory worriedly. Girls in tears were something he could never deal with in the correct manner. Boys, however, were a completely different story as he watched Ms. Gilmore's male counterpart chew up his bottom lip. Boys you have to deal with a firm hand, or they'll be crawling all over you.

Tristan was also watching Rory rather anxiously. He knew that it was his entire fault, and because of that he felt like the lowest bastard alive on earth. He stood up slowly, following Rory as she went out the door. However, as soon as he closed the door to the Head's Office, she took off crying, leaving him standing in the hallway like a dejected date. And, if you consider the fact that he had brought it upon himself, he ran after her, doing the first morally correct thing he could remember. 

**To be continued… (Eventually)**

**Author's Notes: **I was feeling restless, and the beginning of this story was just stuck in my head, repeating itself over and over again, thus driving me crazy. I just had to let it out. Now that I have, I don't know what to do with the rest of it, so suggestions are, as always, welcome. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Notes: **Thank you so much for all of those fantastic reviews. I even liked the ones that criticised my work, albeit in a nice way. I really appreciated them all. 

**Chapter Two: **Sometimes you wish you were just dreaming

Rory was going to cry any moment. Heck, she was going to cry a few minutes ago, but some inner strength in her held on so that her pride could be saved by not crying in front of Mr. 'I'm-hot-and-I-know-it' and the Head. If she was one of those people who were suicidal, she would declare her life was over, and jump off the tallest building in Stars Hollow. Which, if you know Stars Hollow, is not that tall at all, and she would probably just end up breaking a leg. 

Just as she turned the corner, she heard footsteps behind her that were light and quick, and she knew it was Tristan. Who else, but him? A few seconds later, she knew that he had caught up to her, and was in fact, standing right behind her. If she didn't acknowledge him, she hoped he would go away. She was going to enter the girl's bathroom when she felt the slight touch to her shoulder. She turned around slowly and looked straight into his eyes. Somehow the tears had completely disappeared with the addition of anger. 

"What is it that you wanted?" she asked, her voice quiet but even more dangerous because of it. 

Tristan ran a hand through his blond hair, making it spike up in even more directions. "I just wanted to say… sorry."

Rory wanted to laugh. Here was the almighty, reigning king of Chilton, saying sorry to her? And for that reason, she didn't believe it. She didn't believe him anymore because she couldn't. She didn't believe him anymore because people like him would say anything to get people like her within their sharp talons. She shook her head slightly at him. "Go away, Tristan. I don't want to talk to you again."

And she turned and stepped into the marbled bathroom floor, letting the door slam shut in his surprised face.

Whilst in the bathroom, she leaned over the sink, fully aware that she was late for her Calculus class and that Mr. O'Neill would probably slaughter her for that. She wasn't looking forward to walking into his class with the sorry excuse that she had seen the Head. Knowing him, he would probably embarrass her in front of the whole class because of her late entry. He would probably do it even though she wasn't late. He had something against her. She splashed her face with water, hoping that the liquid would wash all traces of her past tears away. She then looked into the mirror. Her eyes were a bit red around the edges, and her cheeks a bit blotchy. Whoever said girls looked pretty when crying lied. She looked like a mess. 

Whatever.

She gathered the last remains of her determination and walked out of the bathroom door, down the hall, and into her Calculus class, where she was greeted with an almost silent 'can hear a pin drop' atmosphere. And all attention was directed to her.

"Well, well… Ms. Gilmore. I'm glad you decided to finally join us," said the sadistic Mr. O'Neill. 

Titters were heard around the classroom, and Rory wondered exactly what did they find funny in the situation.

She walked up to his station near the board, and handed him the note that the Head's secretary had hastily given to her before she walked into his office.

A smirk formed on Mr. O'Neill's face before he told her to sit down.                  

She hastily filled in an empty chair and took out all of her books from her bag. She was ready to take notes a few seconds later, with a pen in her hand and paper on the desk in front of her. 

Tristan watched his 'Mary' come in with a sad smile. She looked utterly and totally tired. He wasn't surprised. Personal attention from the Head had never come easy… at first anyway. He wasn't even surprised that she had totally rejected his apology. It was expected because it came from him, a person that she didn't really like. But no matter, he had to keep on trying. Because he really did mean it. 

Half way into the lesson, a piece of paper flew over her head. She looked around suspiciously for the culprit, and found him. His bright cerulean blue eyes were looking straight into her. She turned away, unable to look at him because of the earnestness she could see in the depths of him. She poked at the crumpled note with the end of her pen, debating whether she should open it or not. Finally, after a lot of poking, she placed it in her bag. She could decide whether she wanted to open it later. 

After class, she placed all of the books in her bag, and walked to her locker as fast as she could to get away from Tristan. She opened her locker, in as short a time ever, and quickly took out all of the books she needed. Just as she was about to step out of the Hell that was Chilton, she remembered the detention that she was due in for. And she groaned.

Walking through the door that was labelled "Detention Class" was exquisite torture. So were the curious gazes on her. Looking around the room with a start, she realised that she was quite absolutely alone. No one was there yet. She didn't know whether to take that as a good sign, or a bad one. Detention was never her forte. 

She sat down on the seat closest to the window, and looked out of it. People were still milling about the lawn, but from her perspective, they looked closer to the size of ants. She saw Tristan near the entrance of the school, his jacket swung casually over a shoulder, and the arm attached to the shoulder slung casually around a girl. She snorted with the normalness of it.

Two minutes to three o'clock, the door swung wide open, and three guys she didn't know personally but whom she could see said 'Trouble' all over came in. She shifted slightly to the edge of her seat, trying to physically separate herself from the three, but knew that it wasn't really possible. As soon as they saw her, they stopped laughing, and focused on the girl that they could never imagine in detention. Until now. 

"Hey, Rick. Check it out. The Virgin's in here," said the guy Rory assumed was not Rick. 

"Wait till T hears about this," said the guy she assumed **was Rick.**

The other guy said nothing, so she assumed he was either really smart and could sense her aura of discomfort, or that he was dumb and didn't know what to say. 

She shuffled a bit before deciding to set them right. "My name is Rory."

The three of them burst out laughing. 

"Well, what do you know – she talks," said Rick.

He walked closer to her, and was soon standing right in front of her. He bent down so that they were eye-to-eye. 

"I'm Rick," he said, the greasy grin on his face more than she could possibly bear.

She nodded curtly. "I know."

He laughed at that comment. "Everyone knows me, babe. The girls love me and the guys want to be me."

A pause.

"No, that's me."

They all swung around to see the person who said that, and found the guilty party leaning on the doorframe, his lips in a smirk. Tristan.

Who else?

Rory rolled her eyes in stupefaction. How these guys could have such huge egos and possibly fit through the doorway still astonished her. She ignored his comment, deciding not to add dignity to his statement.

Rick stood up and saluted Tristan. "Hey, T."

Tristan nodded in response. "Rick." He looked around the classroom, naming each person. "Jack. Greg." His eyes fell on the clearly uncomfortable Rory, and a smile etched itself across his lips. "And Mary."

She was tired of correcting him. And, if memory serves right, she never wanted to talk to him ever again. So she looked away from him.

Tristan's grin became wider if that was even possible as he walked in and sat down in the seat next to her. 

He was going to say something else, but then the teacher came in.

It was Mr. O'Neill. Rory wanted to shout at the injustice of it all. 

"Well, well…" Mr. O'Neill glanced around the room. "Mr. DuGrey, Mr. Green, Mr. Kellis, Mr. Jarrod… and Ms. Gilmore."

He looked down at the clipboard in his hands. "Exactly right."

He looked at them again. "Now… Green, Kellis and Jarrod, you're expected to sit there and finish off your English Literature coursework on Hamlet. I expect it to be completed in an hour. DuGrey and Gilmore, come with me."

And Rory could almost see her impending doom.

**Hope that was okay.**** =) Sorry I had to resort to a couple of clichés to get the story going! But then again, what's a story without at least SOME clichés?**

**And reviews would be really, really nice!**


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Note: **Oh wow. I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a while. And "Summer Love" as well… It's just that I have been so busy, yadda yadda, yet I do realise that I have not upheld my code as a writer and so I'm feeling so bloody guilty. Is this normal? Anyway, just to appease my conscience… and hopefully you guys too… I've written an extra long chapter (well, long by my standards anyway). 

Chapter Three:_ Say it like you mean it_

"You want us to… what?" cried the both of them in disbelief.

Mr. O'Neill nodded his head enthusiastically. "I want you to clean my store room up."

Tristan looked at him. "Is this even legal?"

Mr. O'Neill rolled his eyes. "What gives you the impression that I care?"

"But I'm sure Mr. Charleston didn't mean for us to do this," uttered Rory. She looked around the tiny but really messy room that they were all in. 

Tristan nodded his assent. "Besides, I'm allergic to dust."

Rory smiled. She couldn't help it. It was just too funny. Whoever would have thought that Tristan was allergic to dust? Certainly not she. It doesn't matter if it was true or not anyway, just as long as they get out of this chore. However, her smile shrunk when she remembered that she was angry at Tristan.

Mr. O'Neill looked at the both of them for a long minute. "Well, Mr. Charleston wants you to acquire some discipline so he has asked the teachers in charge of detention to make sure that you do something that will help you to achieve his aim."

 Rory sighed. 

Tristan was too shocked to say a word.

"Throw away any loose pieces of paper into the bin. Any cleaning tools you might possibly need are in the corner over there. Well… since there aren't any more questions, get going," said Mr. O'Neill and he turned around, and shut the door behind him, leaving the two teenagers by themselves in a store room. The possibilities were endless.

Tristan smirked at her as he finally came around from the bout of shock. "Hey Mary. You and me. In a storeroom. Together. It's not just a dream anymore, it's reality."

Rory ignored him, and went on surveying the contents of the room, estimating how long it would take for them to clear up the store room. Surely they didn't have to do this all in one day? But then again, knowing how sadistic Mr. O'Neill was, she wouldn't be surprised.

She started by clearing out the bottom shelf. It was full of loose sheets of paper, which she hastily chucked into the big bin that was placed next to the door. Almost immediately, a big poof of dust rose and tickled her nose. 

She sneezed, and heard an answering sneeze from Tristan who was standing right behind her. It made her lips twitch slightly to realise that he was, as a matter of fact, allergic to dust.  

"It's not funny, Mary," said Tristan, managing to get those words out before another sneeze overtook him.

She gave a full fledged predatory grin as he continued on sneezing.

Finally, after a few moments of sneezing, Tristan stopped and glared at Rory. "The least you could do is not laugh."

Rory rolled her eyes at him, but she still didn't trust herself to say anything that she wouldn't end up regretting later. 

"Still not talking to me, huh?" 

He paused as he realised that a rather obvious silence hung in the air. He continued to sort out the books on the second shelf into piles, a wry grin taking over his handsome features. 

"I'm not blaming you," he said. He bit his lip, looking anywhere but at her, even as he felt her eyes on him.  

Rory looked at him confusedly, wondering why he was still talking to her even though she wouldn't reply. 

He nervously rubbed his hair to find inspiration for his next words. "If I were you, I wouldn't be talking to me too." Another pause and Tristan could just kill himself for what he said.  

His last words brought a disarming grin to her face, but she remembered the discourse earlier, and went on throwing the sheets into the bin, not bothering to look whether they had any real importance or not. 

She granted him a withering glance, as if somehow she could convey with her eyes the message that he should just shut up. It seemed to her that he had somehow understood her unspoken implication, but then she heard him open his mouth again.

"Well… I know that I've been annoying you ever since you arrived in Chilton Academy, and… I want you to know…" He paused and took a deep breath. Never before had he ever been so nervous to say something to a girl. 

"I just want you to know…"

He paused again. This time, he rubbed his eyes tiredly, as he wondered if he would be able to humble himself enough to say the words that he knew she wanted to hear. Not that he would ever admit it, but to a certain extent, he needed to say those same words too.

Rory's brow crinkled in confusion. It was the first time that she had ever seen Tristan at a loss for words, and she would bet, if she were the type to bet that is, that he had never before been in this circumstance. She cast a sidelong gaze at his motionless form beside her.

She couldn't stand the awkward silence that had managed to creep its way into their conversation, albeit a rather one-sided one, so she grabbed the nearest piece of paper, and scribbled a hasty note on it. She pursed her lips, asking herself whether she should add anything more, but then decided against it, and threw the note over to Tristan.

He glanced at Rory confusedly, before reaching out for the note and unravelling it. 

"I don't have all day. Just spit it out."

His full-fledged laughter was something that she did not expect, but she enjoyed basking in the warmth of it, as it flowed over her. She realised that although she shared some of her classes with him, she had never really heard him laugh as freely as he did now, and for some strange reason, it made her feel happy too. 

He closed his eyes for a second, conjuring up the courage to tell her the words. He walked over to where she sat, and kneeled down so that they were on the same level; eye to eye. 

"I'm sorry."

Rory's eyes widened considerably at what she knew had to be a heartfelt apology. She looked away, and then down at the floor where pieces of paper lay scrambled around her feet in disarray. She contemplated over what he said, and the way he said it. She admitted to herself that this whole mess could not be placed entirely on his shoulder as she had contributed into it. It was she who swore, not him, and despite the fact that it was he who provoked her to that extent, it did not change the fact that at the end, it was from her mouth that the words came out from. 

She looked up, straight into his ocean blue eyes, and gave a teensy smile. "It's okay."

Tristan felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank god. I thought you'd never forgive me."

Rory rolled her eyes. Typical. "I said its okay; I didn't say that I forgive you."

Tristan could almost feel the weight dropping back onto his weary shoulders as he burned an inquisitive glance into her. 

"What more do you want from me?" he asked, tensing himself even before he had finished uttering the question. 

Rory grinned at him, and at that precise moment, it looked as if she was going in for the kill. 

"I want coffee. Lots of it. Everyday at my locker before the first bell rings."

Tristan groaned.

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After school, Rory completed her homework, watched a bit of TV (mostly reruns, nothing interesting) and then proceeded to stare at the front door of her house, counting silently in her head.

_Four, Three, Two… One_

Right on time, the door burst open, displaying a dishevelled but happily beaming Lorelai Gilmore the first. 

Both Lorelai's started rambling at the same time.

"You'll never guess what happened today..."

Each looked to the other and laughed. 

"You go first…" said Rory to her mother.

Lorelai grinned. "Sookie slipped on a wet dishcloth, pulling down various pots and pans that were hanging on the wall, which in turn disrupted the whole inn because of the terrible noise and brought Michel running into the kitchen. He slipped on a banana skin that was just lying there in the middle of his path, and fell near Sookie…"

Rory stared. "No kidding… a banana skin?"

Lorelai nodded affirmatively. "A banana skin."

"How's Sookie?"

"She's fine, but I think she has a bruise on her right hip."

"Ow."

"Yeah. However, she has promised that she will be careful the next time around."

Rory laughed. "She always says that."

"I know."

"Umm… I'm almost afraid to ask this, but I figure I have to because you're still jumping up and down in a state of excitement… so… How's Michel?"

Lorelai did a little squeal that totally belied her age. "He broke his leg."

Rory blinked. "Say that again?"

"He broke his leg."

"WHAT?"

"I'm serious. He's now in Hartford General Hospital."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I promised him I'll visit him the day after tomorrow."

"How long is he going to stay there?"

"I'm not so sure. I think he just doesn't want to be near Sookie or the inn right now."

"Understandable."

"Totally." Lorelai stopped hopping from one foot to another and gave her daughter a hug. "So how was your day, sweetie?"

Rory frowned. "Well. Same old, same old." She paused, and mumbled out the next string of words. "Except that I got detention for a month with the son of Satan."

Lorelai's eyes widened considerably, and she slumped down on the couch, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Repeat that again please Rory. And this time, a bit slower because I thought I heard you say that you have detention for a month with Satan's son."

"I did say that," muttered Rory.

"WHAT? But… Rory… did you forget that you were supposed to be the sensible one in this household? That means that no late night partying without parental consent, no taking of drugs when you are not in the presence of at least one parent, and definitely no getting yourself in detention with Satan's Son."

"I know, I know."

Lorelai sat up straight as a ramrod. "Wait a second… Satan's son? Who is he?"

"Tristan."

"Bible boy?" 

"Yes."

"So what did you do?"

"I swore."

"You _what_?"

"I swore."

"But you never swear."

"I do swear," said Rory, for an unknown reason defending her ability to curse.

"Okay, maybe you do, but the most I heard you say is 'darn' or something as equally minor as that. I thought I was the one who was able to shock a sailor."

"Mom…" warned Rory.

Lorelai grinned. "I'll stop now."

"Good," said Rory. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Does it in any way affect your grades?" asked Lorelai, for a while acting like the Mum she was.

Rory shook her head negatively. "No. It's just a disciplinary action, and since it's my first offence, I'm not punished as harshly as I would have been had it been my second or third."

Moments of silence reigned supreme in the Gilmore household.

"I'm proud of you," said Lorelai.

"Mom…" warned Rory for the second time.

"Sorry." Lorelai stood up, brushing off the seat of her pants. "C'mon let's eat. I got Chinese."

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Rory banged her locker repeatedly, feeling like she could let out another string of expletives any second. She woke up early, only to find that the bus that drove her to school was more than half an hour late, and not only that but it was full of people. Wait… there was more. The air conditioning wasn't working, and she had to suffer the smells of various people in the bus for approximately thirty five minutes. Not only that, but she realised that she had left her chemistry book at home. And her classes haven't even started yet. 

However, just before she could hit her locker once again, a fist appeared virtually out of nowhere and hit it just right so that it swung open. Rory blinked repeatedly at her locker door in shock, the word "traitor" coming up in neon lights in her mind. She could practically hear the smirk that belonged to the person with the fist carve on his face.

"What, no adoring "Tristan, you're a lifesaver," or "Tristan, you're so strong" or even a simple "Thank you," drawled the smartass behind her.

Rory shrugged. "Don't feel like it."

"I demand one or… you won't get your coffee," said Tristan, knowing that he got the upper hand, and enjoying it. It wasn't everyday that a guy like him had an advantage over Rory Gilmore.

Rory spun around so quickly that her elbow almost hit him. He held the coffee high above his head, meaning that it was also high above _her head. She frowned._

"You better give that to me, or I'll—" 

Tristan grinned. "You'll what? Do a sophisticated karate chop on me or a kick that will send me sprawling to the ground?"

Rory's frown got bigger. Not to mention that she couldn't do those things that had just come from his mouth, but he was really getting on her nerves. Again. And after she'd just had a bad day too. 

"Just give it to me, Tristan," she spat out, as her eyes narrowed upon the coffee in his hands that would make all her troubles disappear. For a while anyway. 

"I won't give it to me unless you say 'Thank you for going to so much trouble'," said Tristan.

Rory sighed. "Thank you," she managed to grit out.

"Say it like you actually mean it."

Rory rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and envisioned that it was someone else, anyone else, who was holding that cup of coffee in their hands. "Thank you," she said.

He placed the cup of coffee in her hands. "That wasn't so hard was it?"

Rory quickly gulped down the coffee, feeling it go down her throat and disperse to areas of her body that desperately need it, and she felt instantly happier. What a drug.

Until she realised that she had Chemistry next and her Chemistry book was lying on top of her bed, probably where she had flung it to put on her socks, only to forget to pick it up again. Life officially sucks.

Tristan noticed the frown on her face, and immediately felt worried. 

"What's wrong, Mary?"

She let the nickname slip. "I don't have my Chem book."

"Oh. Well… you can borrow mine if you want."

Rory eyed him suspiciously. "Why would you want to lend me yours?"

Tristan shrugged. "I don't have Chem till later today and you can just pass me the book in the hallway or something."

He took out the thick book from his backpack, and passed it over to her. "Here. I have Chem last lesson."

Rory gave him a teeny smile. "I'll give it to you during lunch."

"Whenever suits you."

"Okay."

He gave her a wave as he walked away.

For a second, Rory almost thought he was tolerable.   

**=) That was the best I could do. I'm sure a lot of you have problems with the way the story is going… but no one's really giving me much help on what to do with this story. I'll give you the credit, swear to God… **


End file.
